


'S Wonderful

by ottertrashpalace



Series: Shamless Stucky Fluff [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, Fred Astaire - Freeform, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Old men being old, Post-CAWS, its v sweet please brush your teeth after reading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7243369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottertrashpalace/pseuds/ottertrashpalace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky recieve a mysterious present, and Bucky remembers how much he loves to dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'S Wonderful

There was a sharp knock on their door one Wednesday-- loud enough to make Bucky jump off of the couch, dropping his dime novel and grabbing for a weapon. Steve got to his feet and looked through the peep hole in the door. He sighed.

"Just the UPS, Buck. Bastards never learned how to use the damn doorbell..."

Bucky gave a frustrated grunt and dropped back onto the couch as Steve retrieved his package. It was about the size of a golden retriever, and reasonably heavy. He set it on the coffee table with a pronounced _thump_ , and opened it with the kitchen scissors.

He lifted the flaps apprehensively. They hadn't ordered anything recently, and even though he knew SHIELD screened all their mail, Steve couldn't quite stop  himself from being weary.

The first thing that he saw was a note on Stark Industries stationary. This was not entirely reassuring.

 

_For my favorite centennials: have a ball, you two!_

_xoxo,_

_Tony_

 

Okay, definitely cause for concern. Nevertheless, he unpacked the bubble wrap and peanuts. Tony could've sent them anything from rare 1950s editions of National Geographic to diamond-encrusted dildos. The man had no limits.

Bucky sat up straight in his seat when he saw what Steve had revealed. "Oh wow, is that what I think it is? They still have those?" Steve shook his head in wonder.

On their well-worn coffee table sat a brand new spanking record player, complete with a glossy black turntable and a smooth, cherry-hued box. The little instruction booklet that came with it said something about "seismic platforms" and "four-point suspension", which gave Steve the distinct impression that Tony hadn't exactly skimped on this little present.

While Steve was admiring the machine itself, Bucky had dug down into the bottom of the box.

"I'll be damned, Steve. You remember this stuff?" He pulled out a few records; the first few have cover art Steve only vaguely recognized (there had notes in Tony's handwriting: Pink Floyd, album rock, badass; Elvis Presley, apparently a classic; the Beach Boys, Pepper made me put this one in), but on the bottom were records with faces and names that made Steve's breath catch in his throat.

"We used to dance to this," Bucky whispered. Steve looks down at the timeless face of Fred Astaire, and he remembered, too. Swampy summer nights just before the war with to little clothing, when he was 18 and he still couldn't dance. Wondering if Bucky's sweaty sides and smooth shoulders could ever be something he could keep.

He took the record and slid it out. It took a little doing to get the record player to work (wasn't like how he remembers it, damn it), but the songs that resulted were worth the wait. He felt a calloused hand take his, and pull him gently to his feet. Bucky smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen. He felt Bucky shuffling back and forth in time to the music, posessing incredible rhythm for a man who probably hadn't so much as heard a tune in the past seventy years.

"You can still dance," Steve breathed. It was the closest they'd been since World War II.

"And you still have the music sense of a left-footed ox," Bucky says with a smirk.

"Aw, shut up, jerk. We were havin' too nice of a moment for you to go and ruin it like that." Steve complains.

"'S my specialty, punk," Bucky tosses back with a shy smile.

Steve really, really, _really_ wanted to kiss him, as they swayed to Astaire's crooning. But he couldn't. He knew that Bucky trusted him immensely, something he couldn't be more grateful for. He also knew that the quickest way to destroy the small, tentative thing that had grown between them would be to cross the lines Bucky has so clearly drawn.

So he let his hand rest on Bucky's shoulder, and did his best to move along. Bucky steadily gained confidence, and soon enough, they were moving in a great circle around the room. Steve tripped at least twice, but Bucky couldn't seem to care less.

As soon as the song ended, Steve collapsed on the couch. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he would do on days, given the chance.

"Sorry, Buck. Looks like some things even the serum couldn't change."

"Takes me back," Bucky says after a short silence.

"Oh...?" When it came to Bucky's memories, being "taken back" wasn't always a good thing.

"Yeah... It's nice. I think this is why I'd always go dancing, back in the day."

"I admit, I sorta thought it was the dames." Steve said in jest, but he regretted bringing that up as soon as he'd said it. Bucky just snorted.

"Sure, that too. But it always came back to the dancing. That's what really kept me goin' all night, if you know what I mean."

"Sure, that and the illegal alcohol."

Bucky feigned insult, which made Steve smile. The conversation lapsed into a comfortable pause, with the silence filled by the record player.

"Hey, here's an idea," said Steve, suddenly struck by inspiration. "you don't hafta agree, but just hear me out. You ever thought about dance classes?"

"Classes? What for?" Steve might've been reading into things a little too much, but he though Bucky looked uncomfortable.

"I mean, just for the hell of it. It's something you're good at, so why not learn... more? I mean, we're in New York. There's gotta be something out there that you'd like."

Silence.

Bucky fiddled with his metal hand. "I mean... I don't know how safe..."

"Yeah, I know." Steve realized that Bucky was both a target himself, and a potential threat if something triggered Winter Soldier mode. However, he still thought it could be something Bucky would fall in love with. "I guess a public class wouldn't be that great, but we could work something out. Just think about it, will ya?"

Bucky gave him an unreadable look.

"... All right. I'll think about it."

Satisfied, Steve let the subject drop, and the soothing jazz filled the apartment.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I named the fic and the chapters after Fred Astaire songs, and yes, this is the cheesiest shit ever. I have a lot of feelings, okay??  
> For one (1) kudos a day you can help save the starving writer,;; comments also accepted


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